


Till The Cat Comes Home

by ThatSoChangeableChick



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Catwoman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Catlad, Family Fluff, Gen, Robbery, Vigilantism, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 15:09:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10642410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatSoChangeableChick/pseuds/ThatSoChangeableChick
Summary: The Bat Kids are, alternatively, raised as the 'Cat Kids'.





	

**Author's Note:**

> so here is another little story of an AU I had on my mind a while ago...  
> hope you like it!! :D

 

"Don't you know who I am?" Nightwing chided. He deftly danced on the high balcony, flipping in controlled precision to fold his knees and sit, without a single sweat to be broken. That wasn't to indicate those below him didn't sweat.

It was a rather large courtyard, the higher-end of Gotham. Lavish arches, streaming dance lights, expensive embroideries on even more expensive gowns. Though nothing was as expensive as the jewelry. And Nightwing had an attention-grabbing performance to hold.

He spied a rather heavy-set man, a Malcom Deidre. Born into money, a penchant for horses and ninth century desks, and bucket loads of cash just waiting to be grabbed. "You," Nightwing pointed out, a cocked grin and all, "What's your name, good sir?"

A spotlight streamed to Malcolm Deidre. His grin never faltered, despite the shadow of his little brother in the far corner. This was a big gig, over a two dozen targets in the room alone which didn't account for the vault downstairs and the time limit. The individual targets were really just distraction, they'd been hired to take a memory chip from the vault and Nightwing would do his part.

Malcom began to speak and Nightwing held a hand. It wouldn't be good to have the villagers rebel. "I already know who you are, sorry about the false pretense, in fact I know who most of you all. The infamous ones, at least," Nightwing winked at a waiter.

He wandered onto his hand, outstretched his legs to cartwheel further down the balcony. Not close enough to be within reach but definitely closer that threat was implied.

"I really hope you know who I am," Nightwing noted, "This'll be a bit of a shock if you don't." He helpfully lifted a crackling escrima stick, wicked grin in place as his youngest brother darted inside the crowd to fence objects. Even from his elevated position and knowing the deployed tactics it was beginning difficult to overlook him.

His littlest brother really was growing up too fast.

Nightwing cartwheeled to a lower level, a staircase balcony sturdy beneath his hands and eyed the handful of wealthy sorts behind his back. They definitely wouldn't be an issue. He grinned at them, "So. Let's hear them. You, Victorian era puffy dress, yes you with the hair to match," Nightwing pointed, languidly outstretched and surveyed the frozen occupants below.

" _You've got to stop playing with your food_ ," Tim noted. Nightwing would never do that. Of course, it was fun. It also served a purpose, he could've used threats and fear, or bribe and danger but this, this wouldn't be the most traumatizing thing to happen to these rich buds.

It made the payday at the end of it feel all that sweeter.

The Victorian puffy dress, also known as Linda Martin, of the Martin Gotham dynasty shook her head, backed off. Nightwing cocked a head, "Come on. No one here will fault you for it, right fellas?" he flipped a hand, escrima stick cackled electricity in his hand.

It drew attention as his littlest brother vanished through a conveniently opened rafter. By the time they'd finished Damian would've warmed their means of escape. For that night, it was a helicopter, hidden inside a rooftop storage facility just two buildings down.

Talk about jackpot.

"Alright, alright. Let me guess," Nightwing surrendered and filed off the Martin's dynasty bank account number, right beside the Gotham General vault number. Not three blocks down. Just enough time to snatch it on the way out of here. He helpfully reminded them all that.

It continued like that for a little while. Once upon a time he'd been a circus brat, holding a crowd at rapt attention was like breath. He'd been told, frequently, by irritated siblings that he could do it in his sleep.

Call and ye shall receive, " _Thank fuck. We're in_ ," Jason hissed. It would take a few moments to locate the memory chip, especially with their repurposed x-ray scanner and Tim on lookout.

Nightwing, on the other hand, didn't have a few moments. It's about here that the great bane to their criminal existence dropped down from the rafters, his tinniest brother scowling beneath his arm. Batman looked less impressed than Nightwing figured warranted.

His smirk widened, "Hey, Bats. It's been a long time, no glower. Mum says Hi," Nightwing reported. He doesn't recall when it became normal to have family feuds with pseudo father in laws aired in skintight body suits and an audience to boot. But it is, normal. Especially when Mum and Bats are about to collide back together for a romantic stint.

All the warning signals are there. He's become a master at reading them over the years. It's been predicted, in the next few days, Batman is going to be sitting at their breakfast table or they'll break into his Manor and Batman will pass the orange juice. He's actually grateful, he'd begun to miss Agent A's food.

" _Batman is here?"_ Tim checked. Nightwing heard Jason swear, a sharp shudder as their efforts to find the memory chip were hurried. Nightwing hummed in affirmation.

Seconded by the darker shadow barely visible behind a shutter grate, " _Yep_ ," Cassandra popped. At least their heaviest hitter was in the area if this went south. If it didn't, causing a spectacle is for what they're hired.

"Looking for this," Batman deadpanned. He lifted what was definitely a memory chip and his lips twitched. Aww, Nightwing missed Bats too.

Damian altogether hadn't. Even as Batman set him down, wrists clasped and all, hoodie and mask still firmly in place, though definitely no firmer than his scowl. Damian and Bruce had a complicated relationship, one that involved a lot of familial pressure and will but all the emotional constipation to make it substantially difficult.

It wasn't for naught that Damian chose to live with them over Batman. Course, the price on Damian's head made living in the less spot-lit part of town, overprotected by sketchy terrain and numeral family members much better than a lonesome and military grade security. At least, that's the reason Damian gave Nightwing.

He still didn't altogether believe that.

Jason's exhale crackled the commlink, " _He has the goddamned treasure, doesn't he_?" Cassandra popped an affirmative answer to that and Jason groaned, audibly face-palming as Tim clacked on what sounded like a keyboard. Probably to wipe security feeds.

His jaw twanged, "I wouldn't have guessed Batman to be a night burglar," Nightwing had though. He really had. He suspected a witty comeback, which definitely would've seen light if it wasn't for their audience and Nightwing momentarily chaffed at that.

"Stand down, Nightwing," Batman ordered. Then he went and did things like that, "Either join Robin willingly, or don't. It's your choice," Batman threatened. See, it was Kyle function, adoptive or fostered or not, to immediately go against whatever Batman indicated.

"I'll take it into account," Nightwing shrugged. Just as Damian kicked out, doors aggressively swung open and wealthy folk bolted for the exit as Nightwing launched at Batman, escrima stick glowing in electricity.

Nightwing swiped, once and twice, driving Batman back even as he failed to land a hit. Cassandra dropped down, grabbed Damian and yanked him back into the shadows. Now with his littlest brother in the clear, Batman turned offensive.

It was an act they'd done several times. No one wanted Damian carted off for questioning civil servants, and Damian didn't want a lecture and a grounding until one of his siblings broke him out.

" _Try and get a hold of the memory chip, Nightwing_ ," Tim said, huffing and puffing as he and Jason no doubt, utilized their escape route. Nightwing hummed affirmative, roundhouse kicked and skimmed Batman's shoulder.

Sparring with Bruce was always fun. It became exponentially more difficult for Batman when Cass landed on his back, despite his hurl and her subsequent dodge of bat-a-rang. Both of them, made Batman closer to the defensive than offensive edge.

"Mum's in Paris," Nightwing called after the last civilian cleared out. Batman dodged sweep of electricity, side-stepped and struck at Cassandra, who blocked and weaved.

Batman hummed, "I know." Doing a job at the louvre, where a wanted cat statue sat. Batman definitely knew that bit too.

He flipped from an attack, "She'll be back tomorrow," Nightwing said. Even though Batman definitely knew that. He liked spotting Bruce's reaction underneath that mask, the semi-pleased and relieved tilt in his mouth. It made the world feel a little more in order.

In the corner of his vision Nightwing spotted two hunched shadows, one launched into the rafters for a sneak attack and the other, Jason flat out tackled Batman. He went down for a few moments, before he flipped back up, kicked Jason back and was side-tracked by Cassandra on the offense.

Now, where did Bats put the memory chip? They had an infamous reputation to uphold.

Think 'Wing. Think.

Found it.

Either in north-east pocket of his utility belt or north-west. Nightwing clicked his teeth and Tim got into position overhead, while Cass and Jason provided a hard-pressed distraction. Jason snickered, began to ramble – a half-hearted distraction as he swerved and dodged in practiced ease with Cassandra.

Into the fray Nightwing launched, unlatched a pocket of Batman's utility belt, dodged an attack while Cass hurried to counter and flung the contents up. Tim swooped down to catch it.

Nightwing flipped out of reach, "We got it?" he checked, huffing a little as he kept an eye on Batman's fists.

"No," Tim muttered, "Got some pellets though. Looks like new gas." Timmy tucked it back, cleared his throat and trailed after Batman and his siblings from above. "Ready, 'Wing?'" Timmy checked.

"As ever," Nightwing swirled escrima sticks. Batman would be expecting him, even with Cass and Jason as a distraction from hell. He had to duck a swipe but his fingers pinched the treasure from inside Batman's utility belt, he was struck hard for it and the memory chip flew up – barely captured by Tim while Jason flat-out tackled Batman.

Nightwing staggered to his feet, unclenched as Jason was thrown into him, and they both toppled. He groaned and Jason elbowed him in the ribs. "I hate this guy," Jason hissed, as per usual. Nightwing still recalled when Jason had been the closest to Bruce of all of them.

Nightwing elbowed his brother, lifted his hand, "Red?" Nightwing checked.

"I've got it," Timmy breathed, "Move out. Rendezvous at Home Base." Nightwing nodded and Jason rolled his neck, watched Cass and Bruce battle it out if he needed to step in.

He heard Tim vanish into the vents, nudged Jason who grunted, eyed his sister and Bruce for a moment longer and launched out the front doors into the streets for a route back home. He'd find Damian and help him back before Bats showed on their tail.

Nightwing thumbed the smoke pellets he kept on hand, "Blackie!" he yelled, threw them at Batman's feet. Cassandra burst from the smoke, nodded and then they bolted out the front doors, onto the police cars, over fire escapes and into the rooftops.

Batman may not be seen but definitely on their heels. He could catch them, it was a matter of how worth it he dealt it – they hadn't stolen anything potential awful, just financials, documentations and contacts for a rival business. There had been worse jobs over the years.

Whether knowingly or unknowingly taken.

In the end, he and Cass blended into shadows, popped out on their rooftop and entered through the penthouse window to the already filled couch. Tim waved a hand, bundled in blankets and chewing down on popcorn. His hair was still wet.

"Jason's in the shower," Tim munched, "I was thinking the new ghostbusters…?" He pointed at the TV, already hooked up to Tim's computer and the hacked stream on it.

From the narrow, heavily pictured hall Damian wandered out. His cat, Alfred in his hands and pressed to his batman pajamas, and the bruise on his cheek only extenuating the scowled pout. "Everything else is in the wash," Damian declared.

Like Nightwing believed that. He just wanted to feel close to his Dad, there wasn't anything wrong with that. Cass scampered past Dick, high-fived Tim and scratched Alfred the Cat's head before patting Damian's cheek, and vanishing down the hall.

When it was Dick's turn to shower and throw on his comfiest clothes, he heard Damian and Tim bickering while Cass and Jason murmured over inconsequential items. He toweled his hair, yanked on his wooly batgirl socks and launched into the bundle his siblings had cultivated.

Tim groaned, "You're squishing me." His little brother scrambled, elbowed Dick until he'd dipped into the space between Tim and Damian. He wrapped an arm around Damian, ignoring the irritated huff and stealing a blanket from the huddle to fully immerse himself and his littlest brother in the fluffy clouds.

"You're such a dick," Jason murmured, flinging popcorn into his maw while he was swallowed in pillows and Cass leaned against his pillowed knees.

He smirked, mouth open to respond when a call came from the window. "That's no way to talk to your brother," Bruce inclined from the window, all Batman garbed except in mask. Jason scowled at Bruce, Cass thumped him and waved at Bruce.

Then threw a popcorn at Tim's head, gestured at the frozen film and relaxed as Tim blinked, clicked it on and the opening soundtrack flashed onto screen. Damian snuggled into Dick's side, head squished at Dick's floating ribs and Alfred the Cat curled at his cheek.

Batman unlatched the heaviest of materials and settled into the armchair, cowl down. After a while even Jason forgot Bruce at his back, snorting and snickering at the film, while Tim blindly grabbed for more popcorn in his barren bowl.

Yeah. He couldn't wait for Mum to come home.

**Author's Note:**

> feedback me so I know what you like, or don't ~*~~**~~  
> ;D


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